Underworld

Underworld

Oblivion

with Bells

(Ato Records)

After a five-year break in which Underworld cultivated a more organic sound scoring movie soundtracks, Oblivion with Bells is an audibly convalescent affair following a decade of thrills, pills and doubtless bellyaches endured by one of the more thrillingly chaotic dance acts of the 1990s.

A thick gloss coats the music, with any raw edges neatly polished. Pristine openers Crocodile and Beautiful Burnout display the band's current ambient leanings, with the latter's Vangelis-tinged closing stages personifying the change. A break beat attempts to muscle its way through the mood, yet barely grows beyond a foot tap. That would have been unthinkable 12 or so years ago.

While the more challenging aspects of Underworld remain - read Karl Hyde's signature stream of consciousness lyrics - they also seem to have slowed with age. In his mid-90s pomp Hyde was like a wrestler with 'roid rage, his lyrics pinning the listener down.

On Ring Road, however, he sounds like Mike 'the Streets' Skinner's grandpa.

'Girls in England shirts read the papers' observes Hyde, and 'the boys from Dagenham wear jackets with Harlem' written on the back of them. Inconsequential stuff, and Best Mamgu Ever is all the better for reducing Hyde's vocals to a choppy distortion, turning him into a potent instrument, as opposed to a rambling acid house casualty.

This band has always been an imperfect, uncompromising draw, frequently capable of genius. Indeed, the blissful Brian Eno-inspired To Heal makes the biggest impression. Underworld being Underworld, it is frustratingly only two minutes long.